Darkness Falls Forever
by snowangel4
Summary: SV He used to cling to that voice. But now it only haunts him. Can you ever love someone too much?


Title: Darkness Falls Forever

Disclaimer: I don't own these characters. 

Rating: A strongPG-13

*** Takes place after season 2 finale and I guess fits in with season 3 but is sort of AU.

**Just a little something I whipped up after being on a hiatus for a while.

* The song is My Immortal by Evanescence, I do not own it. 

AN: Warning, this is a dark and angsty story, and deals with issues of suicide and depression, etc. Please don't read if at all inclined to such measures, please get help. 

On a lighter note; Enjoy! :0)

He keeps a box of her stuff. Little things, picture frames, her favorite cd, lotion she always used, a crimson shade of lipstick that'd she wear only on the most special occasions, her watch-actually his watch, the one that he gave her. He had put the box on the top shelf of his closet, next to his suitcase and the extra blanket he kept for when it got cold. A month ago he took the box down. He unpacked it, forcing her things to mingle with his. Forcing her back into his life. Now he keeps her shampoo in his shower, the lipstick on the sink, the picture frame on his nightstand, next to the lavender scented lotion that she used to wear. The cd is now embedded in his collection, alphabetically arranged, a true part of it. He's determined to keep her a part of him. That was a month ago. 

A week later he broke. He couldn't stand her anymore. He couldn't take her memory haunting his every move. He had stormed into his bedroom after having too much to drink, his eyes resting on her picture frame. He picked it up and flung it against the wall. Hard. The glass shattered on impact and it rained down on the floor. His eyes darted around frantically as he searched for her. He spotted his cds and tore hers from his collection, breaking it in half as he throws it on the ground as he stumbles around the room. He needed to be free. He gasps for breath, his eyes slightly numb from the alcohol, his palms sweaty with a thick, fuzzy sensation running through his head. Exhausted, he felt his chest heaving as his breaths grew more shallow. Silent tears poured down his cheeks, as he sank to the floor. 

_I'm so tired of being here_

_Suppressed by all my childish fears_

_And if you have to leave_

_I wish that you would just leave_

_'Cause your presence still lingers here_

And it won't leave me alone 

~~~***~~~

It's the one year anniversary of her death. 

Depression, that's what they call it. He scornfully laughs at that thought. This isn't depression, this is torture. This is pain. He brings the bottle to his lips, feeling the smooth texture of the glass beneath him and he is calm. For a moment.

Every night he paints the same picture. Drinking his way into oblivion. Shutting out her voice. He used to cling to that voice. But now it only haunts him. It frightens him so much because he's scared of himself. Can you ever love anyone too much? 

He used to go to the bars, drowning his problems along with everyone else doing the same. But now he can only bear to escape her in solitude, he can't take the prying eyes of the world. He can't take the stares he gets when he sits at the bars, telling the imaginary voice to f*** off so loudly that the entire room is immediately quiescent.  

Weiss stops by every couple of days to check on him. He puts on a ridiculous front, Weiss sees through it, and he knows it. He had ended his work at the CIA long ago. He couldn't bear being there. Now he teaches French at the local college. It's only for about 3 hours a day, and it gives him time. Time for her. Time that he doesn't want but somehow can't tear himself away from. 

_These wounds won't seem to heal_

_This pain is just too real_

_There's just too much that time cannot erase_

_When you cried I'd wipe away all of your tears_

_When you'd scream I'd fight away all of your fears_

_And I held your hand through all of these years_

_But you still have_

_All of me_

~~~***~~ 

It's gotten worse. Sometimes he feels her presence disappearing but the apparition of her soul still lingers with him. He manages the days, but yields to the nights. Horrible nights. He goes one night without hearing her voice, without her haunting her nightmares. Without her bloodstained face and charred hands gripping him during the hours of darkness. And he rejoices. 

But now she's here. And the pain is worse. He still hears her voice. It's not the whimsical melody he once had heard before, it's a jarring cacophony that plagues him with guilt. He shuns memories of her and wonders if anyone can deliver him. But then thoughts of why anyone would what to deliver him burn their way into his mind and he comes up with an answer. They wouldn't. Suddenly everything is clear.  

_You used to captivate me_

_By your resonating light_

_Now I'm bound by the life you've left behind_

_Your face it hurts_

_My once pleasant dreams_

_Your voice it chased away_

_All the sanity in me_

He stands up and makes his way to his bathroom. He flicks on the light and the room is flooded with an all to bright white light. It takes him a moment for his eyes to adjust, but he ends up shutting his eyes anyway as he instinctively reaches for the plastic bottle in his medicine cabinet. The rattle of pills breaks the silence that he had forced, as a melody plays in his head. He tries to tune it out but he can't. 

His eyes are still shut as he twists off the childproof cap, the plastic ridges digging into his skin, leaving their vermillion marks on the palm of his hand. He opens his eyes to study it, to examine his pain. One would think he'd become numb, but he hadn't. He feels all pain. That's the problem. He pours the remaining pills into his hand, feeling their smooth texture, their coolness comforts him and he already feels relief. He grabs the glass of water he always leaves sitting by the sink and downs them all.

He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, inhaling dry air. He places both hands on the porcelain sink in front of him for support as the drugs begin to dissolve into his body. He leans over, his head bent down, and he's staring at his feet. He wiggles his toes and watches in mild amusement the wave of fabric that ripples across his feet. He feels his chest restricting, and his breath becomes shallow, and he looks up in the mirror in front of him. The man he sees is foreign to him, tousled hair and bare-chested, his body looks the same, but his face is hardened, and bears her name as a visual testimony. He adverts his eyes quickly, too exhausted to deal with himself. His green eyes fall on her tube of lipstick, standing tall beside his can of shaving cream; he picks it up, feeling the hard plastic of the case, and stares at it. He doesn't know how long he stands there staring. 

_I've tried so hard to tell myself that you're gone_

_But though you're still with me_

_I've been alone all along..._

He licks his parched lips, his tongue momentarily sticking on the dry flesh. He swallows, and refocuses on the lipstick. It's so hard to focus; it takes all of his energy. But his does it. He focuses on it. He takes the lipstick, her lipstick, and he's rambling on. Incoherent words tumble from his mouth. They jumble together in a fashion only he can understand. Only him. And of course her. She hears everything; she knows everything, everything about him. He opens up the cap and twists the bottom, exposing the crimson red to the world. He paces back and forth but soon the motion is too much for him and he sinks to the floor. The tile is cool beneath him and it cools his flushed hands as he presses them all the way down, absorbing its essence.  His mouth keeps going, his thoughts processing so fast that his mouth can't keep up but he tries anyway. Because this is the last time it will happen. 

Because he's bound. He's bound to her. And cannot escape. He looks at the tube of lipstick in wonder he pushes it up, exposing the crimson red. He smiles slightly at the sight of it. His head is pounding like never before, his hands are sweaty and shaking. He presses it on to his skin. It streaks across the pale quivering surface, the tube of metal, pouring out the blood. The red blood. He looks down. He strokes it against his skin, forming wavering lines. It leaves a funny sensation. He finishes and looks down at himself, his hands shaking more violently now. Perspiration has fled from his brow and has enveloped his entire body in a cold sheen of mist. His breathing suddenly becomes so audible to him, his ragged breaths penetrate his ears that are straining for sound. He looks at himself and smiles as a serene peace comes over him. He closes his eyes. This is it. This is what he is waiting for. He takes a deep breath. Darkness falls forever. 

I AM FREE.

A shrill ring breaks the silence of the room. It continues ringing, it's cries unheard and unanswered. Finally the machine picks up. "Hey this is Mike. Leave a message." Beep. 

            "Mike, it's Weiss." A pause. "They found her." His voice cracks. "Sydney's alive. Um, call me as soon as you get this message. Your probably already driving here before I finish this message but, yeah. She's alive."

FIN

Review! Please tell me what y'all think-good or bad I'd love to hear it. So far I think this will be a one parter but if y'all like it, I might continue it-I have a couple of ideas…

Thanks for reading!


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